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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401527">Collected Documentation Surrounding the Creators and Other Celestial Beings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafStitch/pseuds/LeafStitch'>LeafStitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>what if the kids decided to be gods after the game, like, for academic reasons [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Academia, Alternate Universe - Gods &amp; Goddesses, Creation Myth, Gen, Horses, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore, Languages and Linguistics, My Little Pony References, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology As A Giant Game of Telephone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:15:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafStitch/pseuds/LeafStitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of collected documents regarding the Creators of Earth C, and some of their exploits.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>what if the kids decided to be gods after the game, like, for academic reasons [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Creators</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>back on my bullshit hours. so here's part 2 of my 'what if the kids were gods on earth c' series. it won't be all fake academia, but we read hesiod's theogony in my greek religion course and i kinda had to. some narrative elements will be coming. god knows i cant stay away from dirk's pov for more than a few minutes at a time. im out of school and im a sucker for fake academia, so have fun. more notes at the end!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vagabond, <i>The Creators.</i> New translation by G. Jefferson (4992 NG, additional footnotes 5001 NG)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before all upon this Earth, before the Mother Grub and trolls, before carapacians and consorts, before humans, there were the Creators.</p><p>First was created the Heir, made bright joy and dark stormclouds, and from him were created all the others. First his sister, the Maid, and both were called gracious by the others. As the Heir grew, taking her place as the gods' leader, they called her ruler<sup>1</sup> and bringer of changing winds. Next came the Witch, with eyes the color of new life, and they named her for the beautiful stones created as she held the planet in her hands. Then was created the Page, and with words both sweet and bold, they called him protector, the calm after the storm.</p><p>With the world dark, the Heir created Light, with vision distant, and she was named for the flower<sup>2</sup> she sprung from. Thus also was created the Rogue, and named her for the stars that twinkled brightly above. As morning and night were made so was made beloved Time, a Knight to slay beasts and bring the passing of each life with the swing of his blade. From the Knight’s blade was the Prince born, like the glow of flame in the night, and they called him ruler of people<sup>3</sup>, brother to the king underground. </p><p>Then did the Heir take the sky in his hands, tearing it in two to make way for new life.</p><p>At once were the other gods born, through thought and action alike. First came the Grey Knight, born from blood and strife but strengthened through close bonds. Then, the bright-eyed Sylph, mother of trolls, resplendent and cradling the soul<sup>4</sup> of the Mother Grub in both hands. After her quickly came the Thief, cackling and tricky, flitting circles around the other gods on newly-formed wings. Finally came Mind, Seer of knowledge, and the Heir smiled, work well done. The Creators took respite.</p><p>The tear in the sky continued to release monsters, though, terrible beasts of shale and blood. Among them came the Bard, horrid words sung on deaf ears as chaos ruled. As the Heir struggled to close the tear, two more beings escaped, twins. First came the Lord, brash and rude, the Bard taking quickly to him. But left among the stars was his sister, the Muse, and the Rogue brought her back to Earth. They called her sweet-voiced, for the words she wove were unlike any melody sung before. Finally, the Heir closed the gap in the sky, chaos limited.</p><p>The gods reveled that night under influence of the Lord, Bard singing sweetly. His words fell honeyed upon their ears as they partook in the Lord’s feast<sup>5</sup>. However, as day broke, the Creators realized their folly, and locked the Bard in a prison<sup>6</sup>, never again to be set free. The Lord was banished similarly, vanquished in battle, his reign replaced with the rightful next ruler.</p><p>In their image did the Creators make humans, the trolls born of the Mother Grub following soon after. We did follow after, shells of black and white, toward a world more peaceful than our last. Finally the consorts emerged, chattering and amphibian, as the world was completed. </p><p>The gods rested.</p>
<hr/><ol>
<li>Original word used (krēǔsroe) translates both masculine and femininely. The original text gives both masculine and feminine pronouns to the Heir, similarly. </li>
<li>Name of flower not specified; generic word for plant (jrao) used in original text. The original name is lost.
<ol>
<li>With the return of the Creators, it is now known that the Light Seer, as alluded within the poem, is named Rose, a flower not found on the mythic planet of Skaia. Therefore, Vagabond would not have had the word to describe the Light Seer’s name.</li>
</ol>
</li>
<li>Original text refers to the Prince as the <em>ǒrěālri a’ </em><em>krēǔsroe</em>, which translates literally to <em>ruler of hearts</em>. It is this literal translation that creates the Prince’s image as the god of love and desire. The word <em>ǒrěālri </em>refers both to the physical body part as seen in medical records, and to the idea of one’s soul.</li>
<li>Original text translates directly to ‘matron’s egg’ (srōirój), referring to the Matriorb gland found in the Mother Grub.  </li>
<li>Directly translates to <em>cake</em> (lîīzr).</li>
<li>Original wording (làulìjq) is anachronistic, as it directly translates to <em>food chest, </em>which modern scholars have taken to mean <em>refrigerator.</em> Due to the ancient nature of the text, it has been concluded that the <em>food chest </em>mentioned in the original text refers to a storage cellar, used as the Bard’s original prison.
<ol>
<li>With the return of the Creators, it has been confirmed that the Bard was contained in a refrigerator.</li>
</ol>
</li>
</ol>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>some notes on the notes:<br/>- yes i went to behind the name to find out what everyones names meant<br/>- the language used for ancient carapacian is lǎzèról, the troll conlang created by paradoxcase<br/>- ancient carapacian not having a word for 'rose' is inspired both by lǎzèról not having a word for 'rose' and ancient greek not having a word for the color blue! that is one of my favorite facts about the language. since blue was the hardest color to make artificially, the greeks didn't have a word for it.<br/>- i wrote the line about the muse being named for her sweet voice almost immediately after the class where we talked about the muses. my professor said the direct words "calliope means sweet-voiced" and alarm bells went off in my little homestuck linguist brain</p><p>there will likely be more of this! im having a hard time getting thru the next chapter of we're not the same and fingers crossed it isn't burnout, because i really wanna get through that. hopefully it isn't! i have the major plot points of that already lined up, so it shouldn't necessarily suck too bad. this, on the other hand, i'm just doing as interest takes me. upcoming points may include:<br/>- dave being shakespeare (already highkey canon)<br/>- excerpts from dirk's God Journal, documenting godly activities<br/>- breaking news: rose temple discovered<br/>- i've got something in here that i think is another myth a la seven deaths? it has two lines written. another thing about dirk being an emo bastard. we'll see.<br/>- kinda wanna rewrite the arachne story now but with vriska as arachne and rose as athena lol</p><p>as always, leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! seeyall next time! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Weaving Competition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How the Thief became known as the Mother of Spiders.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Some say that the Thief was not always a god. Some say that she once started as a common mortal. Others say she was always immortal, with her shimmering wings and dancing laugh. However, they all agree there were times when the Thief was not a troll, but in the form she is perhaps known best for - the spider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like all the other Creators, the Thief spent time living among the mortals. She settled in the city of Profitis, holy tribute to the Light Seer, and took on the visage of a young ceruleanblood weaver. Quickly, the Thief’s work became known throughout the city, beautiful tapestries and depicting the Creators and heroes of legend. The citizens of Profitis gathered in crowds to see the Thief’s work, and she drank the praise like a fine wine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, though, the Thief grew drunk on her own hubris. She began to brag that her work was the best in the land, and that no one could weave better than her - not even the Light Seer herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Word reached the Light Seer of the mortal boasting her talents, and journeyed into the city to see the tapestries for herself. In the early morning hours, just as the Thief had begun to set up for the day, the Light Seer approached, disguised as an old woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, miss,” said the Light Seer with a polite smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, crone,” sneered the Thief in return; the Seer’s smile did not falter, “Are you here to see my tapestries?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, yes. Word of your work has spread far and wide. I have come from all the way outside the city to see it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look upon it then, but do not get too close,” said the Thief, “I would not want to catch your old age, lest my tapestries wither.” The Light Seer’s smile turned thin - her suspicions had been confirmed. This was, indeed, the Thief of Light in disguise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She examined the tapestries; the Thief’s typical crowd of customers began to gather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are exquisite,” said the Light Seer, looking up from a tapestry depicting the Lord’s defeat, “Your work is quite good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Quite good?” the Thief said, “I assure you, grandmother, my work is the best in the land! I am better than all of the other weavers in Profitis! Even,” she paused, glancing at a tapestry depicting the Light Seer’s wedding to the Sylph, “better than the Light Seer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a burst of light the Seer dropped her disguise, standing tall. The crowd gasped, awed to be in the presence of their patron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prove it to me then, Thief,” she said, “Prove to me that you can weave a tapestry finer than I can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cackled the Thief, “Gladly, Seer! Perhaps your people will bow to me after!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Angry, the Light Seer sat at the loom opposite to the Thief’s, and the two began to work. For hours they wove, the crowd ebbing and flowing like the tides. They worked from the morning’s early hours until the sun did set, when the light was no longer bright enough to work by. The Light Seer pulled away from her loom - her tapestry depicted the Creators in celebration, listening to the song of the sweet-voiced Muse. The Thief was notably absent from the party. Across from her, the Thief finished her piece - the cloth was of equal quality to the Seer’s, but the design showed the Light Seer deep in drink, falling over and making a fool of herself. The Light Seer seethed with rage as the Thief showed off her work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mine is clearly better,” said the Thief, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose, then, you’ll enjoy spinning for a while longer,” declared the Light Seer. She pointed a finger at the Thief, who began to shrink. Smaller and smaller she grew, horns vanishing, arms and legs growing long and spindly, until she became but a common spider. The transformed Thief scuttled off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Light Seer swore to keep her in that form until she apologized, punishment for her hubris. The Thief never did. She kept her arachnid form until the Heir took pity, returning her to her original body. A lesson taught is not always a lesson learned - even Creators can become to big for their breeches.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>vriska: i can weave super good better than you even<br/>rose: bet?</p>
<p>anyway uhh new he says chapter sooner or later, im at a bit of a block and my hours have been so exhausting this week, everything should settle down soon, though. trying to consider what other myths to transform - if you have suggestions, feel free to leave them! as always, i live for kudos and comments. seeyall next time! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Prince's Challenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the prince, and how he came to hold his most famous symbol: the horse</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>based off the kelpies myth. i just can't stay away from this bastard's point of view</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You, Dirk Strider, in the ancient Greek pantheon, would be a combination of Hephaestus and Poseidon, god of the seas, and god of the forge. You’ve got a little Eros thrown in, a little Ares here and there, but primarily you, in Earth C’s canon, control the ocean and make swords. Sounds about right. A workshop above the sea? Precisely. Atlantis? Right on the nose. However, to your utmost delight, this means another thing.</p><p>You are also the god of horses.</p><p>You consider yourself lucky that you got to also be the god of horses, among all your other shit. Mythological canon does often say that Hal was your brother (half-brother? Is he also Dave’s brother?) and was a centaur, which already gives you some delight, but upon hearing that a temple of yours had been unearthed and hearing that the walls were painted with frescoes of horses, you were utterly thrilled.</p><p>SBURB did this weird thing where instead of letting the world evolve over billions of years, it just kind of sped up the process and left humans out, so you could pop everyone onto the planet when the time came. By the time you opened the door and arrived, the world had fully loaded up and was ready to be built upon. (“<em>Just </em>like Minecraft,” Roxy had said, eyes wide. She then tried to punch a tree. It didn’t work.) So you know, scientifically, where horses came from. They evolved somewhere offscreen and then you showed up to tame them. That’s not what the myths say.</p><p>Everyone agrees that you’re the god of horses. Sometimes they even show you riding winged horses (pegasi, they’re called pegasi) with multicolored manes. One famous mural in the city you apparently were patron to showed a pegasus under your hand with a tag around its neck, reading <em> Qiēxrákêra. </em>You later found that in old Carapacian, this translates to ‘flash of color,’ but means ‘running color’ or ‘dashing color’ when translated literally. Your joy was indescribable. </p><p>The thing historians and mythologists can’t agree on is how horses, in mythology, came to be. In some instances, they were just, like, already there. And accepted you as their master. Which, yeah, sure, you’ll take it, but the other versions are, in your opinion, way fuckin’ funnier. In some cases, you’re a Loki figure, bringing an eight-legged horse into creation from your own body (translations are weird. Sometimes it’s a birth thing, sometimes it’s a fathering thing, you’re not too sure) which then shed four of its legs like a fucking insect. Sometimes, it’s that you fell so in love with a mortal farmer, and he asked you to create the most beautiful animal you possibly could. So you made a horse. And by the time you finished making the horse, you’d gotten so caught up in the project that you had gotten over that farmer. And kept the horse. (You read that one to Dave and Roxy when you first discovered it. John wound up rushing into the room, thinking someone may have been dying from all the wheezing he heard.) However, you have a favorite. You found it in another book of Prince myths, and while it follows the idea of horses existing and you just taming them, it’s cooler than that.</p>
<hr/><p>Each year in the Northern Isles, as the seas did get cold and the wind did turn chill, did the creatures, the kelpies, reappear. Each year fishers would go missing, only to be found torn to pieces with only hoofprints in the sand to remember them by. Some people saw them, the women and beasts with manes tangled with seaweed, though few lived to tell it; more often than not, they were drawn in by the kelpies’ beauty, and drowned. </p><p>The Prince was out visiting one of his temples in the city of his patronage, Cur’tlín, when the beasts washed ashore and began to sing. The fishers out on the water ran for the town as the seas began to turn red, the first sign that the kelpies were to return. The villagers ran to their patron, begging him for help.</p><p>“Good Prince,” they cried, “Please, help us. The beasts have returned to our shores.”</p><p>Said the Prince, “What creatures? What do they do?”</p><p>“They lure in our people with their sweet song and beauty, and kill them!”</p><p>Nodding, the Prince said, “I shall examine the problem. If I cannot help, I will call upon the others.” With a large crowd following, the Prince walked to the beach. He saw the red water and the kelpies upon the shore. He approached. “What business have you here, spirits?” he called.</p><p>“We are merely hunting, good Prince,” whispered the kelpies, voices hissing, “We shall eat our fill and then leave. Why don’t you join us for a swim?”</p><p>“Leave this place at once,” said the Prince, “You are not welcome to hunt upon my shores, and you are not welcome to feed upon my people. It is my duty to protect them.”</p><p>“Have a swim with us, then,” the kelpies said, “If you can beat us in a race, we shall leave and never return.” The Prince approached the water. One kelpie, in equine form, allowed him to climb onto its back, as another, in the guise of a human, mounted a second one. The Prince’s beast snorted unhappily, attempting to buck him off, but his grip and will was that of steel. “A lap around the island?” asked the kelpie. The Prince agreed.</p><p>Off they rode; the kelpies’ hooves pounded atop the waves, salt water and sea air stinging the Prince’s eyes, but he continued to ride. Thunderous clouds rumbled across the horizon, darkening the sky. Neck and neck the Prince and the kelpies rode, one never pulling further ahead than the other. They raced the whole day, the seas turning red behind them. As the sun began to set, the Prince could see Cur’tlín in the distance. He spurred his mount harder, urging it to ride faster. The kelpie opposing him was starting to catch up. The Prince thought and thought, trying to find a way to keep them from winning. </p><p>Beneath him, the sea called, and the Prince had an idea. As they approached Cur’tlín, the Prince summoned seaweed from the depths to wrap around the opposing kelpie’s legs. He only could spare a glance behind, watching the other rider fall as their mount stumbled. He rode back to the shore. The villagers watched in awe as he dismounted.</p><p>“You have proven yourself worthy, fair Prince,” said his mount, and in a glow of light, it shed the watery tangles in its mane and transformed into a beautiful horse, “The beasts shall leave this land. This clan, however, will respect that you have proven yourself. Several of us will stay, in this form, and we shall be your servants.” It was for this reason, for the Prince’s cunning and intelligence that the kelpies decided to follow him, noble steeds to pull his chariot. His worth had been proven; the city of Cur’tlín was never bothered by the kelpies again.</p>
<hr/><p>You’ve been to Cur’tlín a few times, partially out of obligation. It’s a nice town, but the weather isn’t your favorite. Jake likes it there. Everyone talks kind of like him, just without all the weird old-timey slang. They have their own slang, their own language (shortened language, s-lang, yes you’re repeating yourself), their own culture. The fact that they appreciate whatever you allegedly did for them (will do for them?) is another story.</p><p>You may not be the biggest fan of yourself, but it doesn’t always suck to have people who are and who were, and nowadays just use your name as a curse. That one’s pretty solid.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so ill be real my ass is getting KICKED at the moment between work and mental health. im like 3/5ths of the way there on the next chapter of he says. its coming i promise. im just not there yet. this one is the one where i update whenever i want. ancient carapacian once again taken from the lazerol conlang</p><p>fun facts: the prince's patron city name is an anglicization of ceirtlín, which means 'heart' in gaelic! dirks patron city is in ireland. every version of the creation of horses is a real horse myth - the kelpie race is from ireland, though i kind of embellished the kelpie turning into a normal horse; the creation of the most beautiful creature is from greek mythology; and the horse birth one is a norse myth.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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